Pretty is as Pretty Does

Content Warning: Self Harm

                  I gazed at my reflection,curling my lip in disgust with the image I saw before me . I hated this part of the day. It was easily the worst part of the process for getting ready for work. Getting out of the shower to just stare at this body that had to be mine. 

          Water dripped down my hair and rolled down my back, making a puddle on the floor around me. My towel was just an arm's reach away, but I hesitated a few more moments, mentally pointing out every single flaw on my skin: the random bumps, the acne, the scars of cuts, and scabs from the more recent cuts. I hated the thin lines on my wrists from where the knife had bitten into my flesh, but I deserved every single one. I noted my short fingernails and grimaced. I hated how uneven and ugly my fingertips looked. But I needed something to take my anxiety out on when Mom and Dad were fighting and my name came up frequently in their arguments. Fighting over who would get me when the divorce was finally settled.

          I finally yanked the towel off of its hook and wrapped it around my dripping body to hide the fat rolls on my stomach and the stretch marks on my thighs, which A culmination of Ramen, flaming hot Cheetos, and multiple cans of coke had been so kind to bless me with. 

          I grabbed my brush off the sink and tugged it through my sopping poo-brown hair, then pulled it back into a tight ponytail without bothering to dry it. I got dressed and exited the bathroom, neglecting to brush my teeth. I wiped the front ones with the hem of my shirt and left it at that, before grabbing my keys off the hook by the door.

          Mom was still asleep, so I quietly cracked open to slip outside before shutting it again. The air had a bite to it when I stepped outside. Frost blanketed the ground, making the early morning sun glitter and sparkle. Nature's way of saying good morning, I guessed. At least something said good morning to me. Now that the worst part of my day was done, I mentally prepared myself for the next worst part of the day. I stepped into my car and let out a deep sigh. I wished I had never taken a job at the mall. It only made me feel worse about myself. 

          The drive to the mall was a pleasant one. I always enjoyed early morning drives. The heavy traffic gave me time to listen to my playlist and prepare for the work day ahead. As I pulled into the back of the mall parking lot, I let the song I was listening to play out before turning off the car and reaching back to grab my sweatshirt in the backseat. I stepped out of the car and pulled it down over my head, then tugged the sleeves down over my wrists.

          The sweatshirt almost acted as my armor. It hid my scars, my ugly gut, and the band logo on the front usually kept people’s gaze on my chest rather than the acne on my face. 

          I stepped into the eerily quiet building and walked to my booth, keeping my gaze trained on the floor and my hands shoved in my pockets. When I reached my destination I took out my keys and began the process of opening the store, even though the mall wasn’t officially opened yet. I walked to the front desk first, turning on the radio station. Thus began my dance-like routine of turning on lights, unlocking doors, and folding clothes to put up on the displays. 

          I finished my dance just in time for mall opening. 9:00 am on the dot. Business was very slow during the mornings. Usually it was just people asking for directions to the bathrooms other stores around, but I didn’t mind. I occupied myself by folding more clothes and clearing up the desk of trash and clutter.

          At around noon, the sound of the rusty gate for the booth just opposite of me caught my attention, causing me to lift my gaze up from the pair of sweatpants I was folding and let out a deep breath. The shoe repair shop had always been my least favorite booth of them all. Not only did it reek of leather oils and glues, the man who owned it always looked like he was ready to kill someone. His unkept white hair and the beard stained yellow just below his nose and chin gave him serial killer vibes. The older folks in the store called him Charlie. Such a happy and bright name for someone who never seemed bright or happy.

          My thoughts were drawn away from Mr. Charlie as a gaggle of teenage girls flocked inside the store. This was the second worst part of my day. The part that I had psyched myself up for all morning. I sucked in a breath and held it to try and make myself feel as thin as they all looked, but that attempt didn’t last very long, and I had to breathe after a good fifteen seconds. 

          All of the girls had perfectly smooth complexions. Their bodies were as thin as poles, and their makeup was on point. Every one of them held a bag or two from other stores they had raided before stopping at mine. They pointed out different shirts and giggled to themselves when someone said something that obviously tickled the groups’ funny bone. 

          I finally looked away, pretending that I hadn’t seen them walk in, even though they were the only customers.

          Eventually one of the girls slapped down some clothes on my desk and a pair of sunglasses. 

          Here we go… I looked up and gave them a polite smile. “Good afternoon!” I said as I began scanning the barcodes of the various items. “Did you find everything you needed today?”

          “Yes, thank you,” The girl deadpanned, watching my hands as I put the things into the bags.

          I swallowed hard. Why is she staring at my hands? She’s judging my nails, surely she is. “37.45,” I said. Please just pay and go. 

          She swiped a credit card and paid for her goods, then took her bag and skipped back to the group without so much as a thank you. 

          “....Have a good day.” I muttered under my breath. I looked down at my fingernails then shoved my hands in my pockets. When I looked back up again my stomach churned. Mr. Charlie was staring intently at me from across the hall, narrowing his eyes slightly. I blinked and offered him a smile before turning and busying myself with something else.

          Twenty minutes til my lunch break. Just a little longer and I could go home. My attention shifted from the game of solitaire on my phone to the teenage couple that walked in. 

          The boy trailed after the girl like an affectionate puppy, and the girl acted like he wasn’t even there. 

          I groaned inwardly, but slipped my phone in my pocket and walked up to the couple with a smile on my face.

          “Can I help either of you?” I asked.

          The girl, a blonde with striking blue eyes and a perfect dusting of freckles on her nose, smiled at me, revealing a row of sparkling white teeth. “Oh no, thank you. We’re just looking.” 

          My tongue subconsciously ran over the fronts of my teeth, but I smiled back. “Alright, let me know if you need anything.” I walked back to the desk and pulled my phone back out.

           I couldn’t focus on my game now, I watched the couple move slowly through the store. Whispering to each other and giggling. She wore a crop top that hugged her chest and stomach in all the wrong places and booty shorts that her boyfriend couldn’t keep his eyes off. I rolled my eyes and tried to look away, but it was like a train wreck. I simply couldn’t. The guy's hands were never off of her body, rubbing her arm, and down on her waist and from time to time reaching to touch the hem of her shorts. 

          I kept a schooled expression as they neared my counter, but I inwardly gagged. Thankfully, they didn’t buy anything and they left without paying me another glance. When lunchtime came, my co-worker took over my shift, and I headed to the cafeteria for lunch. 

          I ordered my usual: Japanese fried rice, chicken and soy sauce. I sat down at an empty table and opened up the takeout box. My mouth watered with the savory aroma of soy and chicken, and I used a plastic fork to dive right in.

          “Seat taken?” A gravelly voice asked behind me.

          I swallowed my bite without even chewing and looked up. Mr. Charlie stared down at me with a wrapped up sub in one hand and a drink in the other. I shook my head slowly and he sat down. 

          He set his sub down and took a sip of his drink. “How're you?”

          I took a second to pull my sweatshirt sleeves down. “Uh, fine.”

I picked up my fork again and put another bite in my mouth, hoping to stay out of more conversation. 

          He bit into his sub and some lettuce fell into his beard. 

          “Uh, sir.” I pointed and he looked down. 

          “Oh, well , thank you.” He wiped up what he had dropped and nodded.

          I sipped my Coke and cleared my throat. 

          “Haven’t been getting much business over at yer place, huh?”

          I shook my head slowly. “No, not much.”

          “You wear that hoodie every day. Something special about it?” He took another bite.

          I furrowed my eyebrows. “Why do you watch me?”

          “Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed my business ain’t booming either. Most people just buy new shoes nowadays rather than gettin’ ‘em fixed. So, nothing to do but people watch. It ain’t in a creepy way. Just noticing is all.”

          “Oh. Well…” I hung my head. “Uh, yes. I wear it every day.”

          He nodded. “It’s a fine band.”

          I couldn’t help but snort in laughter. “You? Listen to heavy metal?”

          He just chuckled and shrugged. “Hey, we all have our tastes.”

          I grinned and started to take another bite.

          “Oh, yer sleeves are getting in yer food.”

          I stopped short and let out a deep breath before pulling my sleeves back. I didn’t look back up at him as I took my bite slowly. 

          He was uncomfortably silent for a long time and I knew he was looking at the scars. 

          “Hmm,” he murmured thoughtfully. “I think you should know that you are a very beautiful girl.”

          I let out my breath. “Sir, I’d rather you not.”

          “What do you mean?”

          I put my fork down and looked up at him. “Sir, if you watch my shop, you’ll know that girls far more beautiful than me come in and out those doors.”

          “Oh, you mean them blondes and brunettes with their girlfriends and boyfriends?” He chuckled. “They ain’t beautiful at all.”

          My forehead wrinkled and I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

          “Well, take that group of girls, for instance. As soon as they walked out of those doors, they started bickering about a shirt. Half the group said it looked cute, and the other half swore it was ugly. The two groups separated after the argument, everyone upset and angry.”

          “That has nothing to do with what they looked like.”

          “Oh, sure, it did. They had scowls and frowns. They looked just awful. But you had a smile up until they left. And a lovely smile it was too.”

          I sat back in my seat. “Oh…”

          “And that boyfriend and girlfriend. Why, as soon as they went to the next shop, she was fussing about how he didn’t say she looked pretty enough and batted him away.” 

          “How rude…”

          “Mhm. But you were friendly despite the jealousy.” 

          I opened my mouth to speak but he cut me off. 

          “Yes, I could see the hurt in yer eyes. But you were still beautiful with your attitude toward her.”

          “I don’t think I quite understand.”

          “Well, just ponder this. Pretty is as pretty does.” He smiled. I had never seen him smile before.  then stood up and left, bringing his sandwich and drink with him.

          I glanced at him as he walked away, then turned back to my food, furrowing my brows. Pretty is… as pretty does? What’s that supposed to mean? I finished my lunch and headed back to finish my shift. 

          Just as I got there I noticed my co-worker working with a customer. She looked frazzled and shot me a glare with pleading eyes.

          “What seems to be the issue?” I asked, coming up to the counter. 

          The girl in front of the counter held a shirt out to me. “I bought this shirt four weeks ago, and your deadbeat staff won’t take it back!”

          “I already told you, ma’am,” my coworker said, “you tore the tag off, and you don’t have a receipt! I can’t give you your money back.”

          The girl huffed and clenched her fists. “How dare you! I’ll call your manager!”

          I curled my lip in disgust. “You can do whatever you like, ma’am, but they’re going to tell you the same thing she just did.” 

          The girl readjusted her bag on her shoulder and slammed the shirt down on the counter before storming out of the store.

          I looked her up and down. Skinny. Styled black hair. Green eyes. She was a picture of beauty… except she wasn’t? Pretty is as pretty does.  

          Like a lightbulb turning on in a dark room, I understood. She had the body that I envied. The looks like that I longed for. But she was ugly because of her attitude. Her snarl made her red lipstick resemble blood. The green eyes envious, and the black hair like a raven, dark and annoying.

          “Jeez,” my coworker muttered. “She seemed so nice at first.”

          “Well, I guess the saying is true.”

          “What saying?”

          “Pretty is as pretty does.”